THE SEA

By Pablo Neruda (Tr. by Alastair Reid)

I need the sea because it teaches me.

I don’t know if I learn music or awareness,

if it’s a single wave or its vast existence,

or only its harsh voice or its shining

suggestion of fishes and ships.

The fact is that until I fall asleep,

in some magnetic way I move in

the university of the waves.

It’s not simply the shells crunched

as if some shivering planet

were giving signs of its gradual death;

no, I reconstruct the day out of a fragment,

the stalactite from a sliver of salt,

and the great god out of a spoonful.

What it taught me before, I keep.

It’s air ceaseless wind, water and sand.

It seems a small thing for a young man,

to have come here to live with his own fire;

nevertheless, the pulse that rose

and fell in its abyss,

the crackling of the blue cold,

the gradual wearing away of the star,

the soft unfolding of the wave

squandering snow with its foam,

the quiet power out there, sure

as a stone shrine in the depths,

replaced my world in which were growing

stubborn sorrow, gathering oblivion,

and my life changed suddenly:

as I became part of its pure movement.

words of cornel west (from hope on a tightrope).

"It takes courage to interrogate yourself. // It takes courage to look in the mirror and see past your reflection to who you really are when you take off the mask, when you're not performing the same old routines and social roles. It takes courage to ask -- how did I become so well-adjusted to injustice? // It takes courage to cut against the grain and become non-conformist. It takes courage to wake up and stay awake instead of engaging in complacent slumber. It takes courage to shatter conformity and cowardice."

"Any time you surrender a prejudice or give up a presupposition, that's a certain death. To learn how to die in this way is to learn how to live."

"Here's the bottom line: to be inspired by ordinary human beings made by God who undergo suffering but who have the courage to imagine a different future and are willing to fight for it, and to decide to fight along with them. That is prophetic thought and prophetic action as I understand it."

setting out.

A timely nugget of wisdom from 13th century Persian poet Rumi:

Load the ship and set out. No one knows for certain whether the vessel will sink or reach the harbor. Cautious people say, "I'll do nothing until I can be sure." Merchants know better. If you do nothing, you lose. Don't be one of those merchants who won't risk the ocean.

Rumi's words make so much literal sense to me, I set out on boats all the time. There is never a guarantee that I will reach my destination, but life would be far less thrilling sitting on the dock, watching boats come and go.

I refuse to be someone who doesn't take a chance. I hope that I will always fight against my impulse to keep myself within the realm of comfort and familiarity. I don't want to hold myself in a box, I don't want to be motivated by fear.

Trust is the only thing I can do.

long i stood.

In The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost writes,

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear..."

As I have read this, I have often been inspired by Frost's penchant for the original and the unique, and thought about how I aspire to live in a way that expresses my own values of unconventionality and adventure.

That's nice for grassy meadows, but what about the path of life, and the major mile markers that are inherent on any road? When I think of the big (even the moderate) life decisions one must make at certain points along their journey, I am reminded of how difficult and unclear the choices can be.

I have ideals, but those are not enough to carry me. Recently, in trying to decide if I want to pack up and leave a home that I love to move across the country in pursuit of new experiences, I have been realizing deep fears that I never ever knew I had within me and I am feeling unsure if I ever even knew what I really wanted. The decision is not as easy as I thought it would be.

I find myself on this road that Frost speaks of, at that point where the paths split. I know with certainty that if I were able to travel two roads simultaneously, I would. But being only one person, I must choose between them. But long I stand, looking back and forth, wondering, imagining, analyzing, driving myself insane.

Frost concludes,

"I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."

I hope that years from now, when I look back on this time in my life, I will be able to say that I made a decision, and it was good, and I will wonder why I put myself through so much mental and emotional turmoil trying to discern what was "right" from all of the voices calling me in separate directions.

But perhaps my goal should be something more than arriving at a decision. Perhaps the struggle is part of the road itself, just as much as the other parts, and perhaps I can find peace here too. Perhaps I will look at this, the process of deciding, as a time that shaped me and helped me to be the person I am becoming.

Either way, I know I must keep walking.

mandatory down time.

I still wonder what it means to have consistency when life is always changing, constantly going in waves.

The current state of my life? Physical busyness and mental preoccupation to the point of illness. But the two days off from work and forced rest is actually quite nice.

I needed a whole day to zone out. Yesterday alone I watched two movies and eight episodes of the first season of Arrested Development. I took a brief afternoon outing to one of my favorite coffee joints where I sat down to read and write to my heart's content.

I had an entire day to simply unwind. It was glorious.

Sometimes (or often) I get so much on my mind that it becomes all-consuming. Everyday tasks and responsibilities seem overwhelming, and before I know it different parts of my life start to go out the window, like my sanity, or my personal hygiene. I start operating to serve the urgent issues at hand, forgetting to enjoy the small things, or to abide in God.

A funny thing happened last night when after a full day of relaxation and clearing my mind I all of a sudden went on a cleaning rampage, did three loads of laundry, picked up all of the clothes on my floor, organized my desk and books and storage area, played the guitar, caught up on emails, and even wrote some letters--things I had been needing to do for weeks but hadn't had the mental or physical capacity to tackle them.

I guess I just needed to start listening to my body, slow down, clear my mind and unwind, and all of those little things didn't seem so overwhelming anymore.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at how quickly I can become distracted by life. I have these moments rather often when I realize that I need to realign my focus and energies, take time to rest, remember to pray, trust God for my provision, etc.

But maybe that's just how life is, and will always be--realizing when I have started living life on my own terms rather than living by the Spirit and receiving God's grace to get my feet back on solid ground. I don't feel shame in myself anymore--perhaps that is the difference.

untitled.

So powerful is the ocean that I cannot stand with my feet at the threshold and think for one minute that life is within my control.

At the alluring, inspiring, terrifying edge of this sea of possibility,

I am humbled.

With every wave that charges the shore, I understand a little more that I cannot influence the movement of the water;

her mission is prevailing.

Releasing myself to her will, trusting she won't let me drown, letting go of every fear of the unknown, I let her take me.

Then finally the peace and beauty of the ocean consume me,

and I am free.

not a verbal processor.

I have had so much on my mind lately that I sometimes don't know what to do with myself. I sometimes (or often) find myself pacing around my house and eating unhealthy snacks and biting my fingernails.

Sometimes I have so many muddled thoughts on my mind that the whole "blog as outlet" idea completely overwhelms me. I guess I succumb to the pressure of wanting a perfectly eloquent and insightful blog post (who am I kidding?). So the online expression of heart hasn't really been happening lately, but believe me, the old school pen-and-paper journal has been getting an ear-full.

Before we get any farther, I just have to put something out there: I am not a verbal processor.

I think about things.

A lot.

To even say that is an underestimation of the thing completely.

If not distracted by something else (a conversation, a project, music, television, sometimes a book), my mind will constantly turn over with thoughts and feelings and confusion over life and it's many angles. Some time ago I coined the term "mental torment of the introspective" and it has never left me. (The phrase, as well as the torment.)

You see, I have this problem of trying to think myself into clarity. How I came to believe this ridiculous phenomenon to be attainable is beyond me. I have failed more times than I could count, but still I try.

Prayer helps.

So once the fog has cleared a little, and I have something resembling a linear train of thought, I write.

I have come to many revelations through writing--God speaks to me through writing, especially when I have many things on my mind (as I do now). Needless to say, the last two weeks of journaling sessions have been quite revealing.

God is stirring something up, and it's big. I can feel it.

It is exciting and it is painful.

Sometimes God is so subtle--a quiet whisper in the midst of unending channels of distraction. But other times I feel like God is right up in my face, and though I feel like a weakling by saying so, it makes me really uncomfortable.

I can so clearly imagine Jesus standing in front of me, looking straight into my eyes with a deep, penetrating gaze, sternly asking, "Will you trust me? Right now, no grasping at straws, will you trust me?"

"But I don't know all of the answers," I contest.

"Trust me."

"I don't know where you're taking me."

"Trust me."

"I don't know if I'll be able to handle it."

"Trust me."


Lord, I pray that I will always say "yes" to you. In everything, no matter how big or small, let me be quick to obey you. In this and in everything, make me to rely on you--to not worry about the details or fear my own inadequacy.

Help me to trust.